CLETE BOYER - RESTAURANTEUR By Robert Palazzo

The last week in September I attended a conference held in Cooperstown. On the last day of the conference, I skipped out on the "good-bye" lunch and instead decided to check out Clete Boyer's Hamburger Hall of Fame. Located about 3 miles South of Cooperstown, it sets back off the road and one would miss it if the location wasn't known. It doesn't look like much from the outside, you know, your typical rural wooden structure that says to you, "Come on in for some good home-style cooking, nothing fancy but you won't go broke either." Next door was a miniature golf course (don't know if it was part of the restaurant). I pulled in the empty parking lot, expecting it to be closed. I turned the knob on the door, and it opened. I had gone there hoping to find a memento of some kind (matches, napkin, whatever) and then planned to leave. As I walked inside, the waitress behind the counter asked me if I was interested in lunch, so I thought "What the heck, I haven't eaten; I might as well stay".

As I sat down on a seat at the counter, I looked around. As far as I could tell, there were 4 other people in the place: the waitress, an old guy drinking coffee next to me at the counter, a cook in the back, and some mysterious woman who was wearing sunglasses. There was baseball memorabilia, mostly Yankee, all around. The drapes were white and blue, with Yankee logos and pinstripes; there were 6 booths around the perimeter and 4 small tables in the center of the room. The counter could seat 6 and there were simple Halloween decorations on the wall behind it. Each table and booth had its own number; I think they may have corresponded with retired Yankee player numbers.

There were many pictures of his teammates on the walls: Mickey, Whitey, Yogi, etc. One frame contained three photos - one of Clete, one of his brother Ken and one of another brother Cloyd. Off to one corner in the back was a display of "Home-Made Italian Cookies" that were for sale. How odd, I thought. Who's home did they come from? Did Clete make them? This was a nice family style place, but believe me, it had a weirdness to it. It was quirky, like that TV show Twin Peaks. I don't know if it was the time of day, the fact there were no customers other than me and that old guy (who had disappeared from the premises by the time I swiveled back in by counter seat to face the front) or the woman who was wearing the sunglasses and sitting at the opposite end of the counter.

I asked if Clete stopped in the restaurant at all and was surprised to have the waitress respond "Oh, every day. He was here for 5 hours yesterday." While I had been taking a scenic boat ride yesterday afternoon, Clete was right here at his restaurant! My face showed both surprise and disappointment. She continued, "He hasn't been here yet today and it's still early. You may get to see him." (I didn't) I found out that he lives only about 1/2 hour away from the place, in a little town called Worcester, NY. I had no idea he lived anywhere near here, or in Upstate NY for that matter.

I checked out the menu and it was what you would expect from this type of place in this type of setting - good solid breakfasts, hot and cold sandwiches and dinner entrees, all reasonably priced. Some had familiar names:

Yankee Blueberry pancakes, Rizzuto Pancakes (short stack), Yogi's Special meatball sub, Pepitone's All Beef 1 foot long Frankfurter (?? they shared a locker room; 'nuff said), Chili Davis Dog and Chicken catcha "Torre" with pasta.

But the place was named Hamburger Hall of Fame and for good reason. There were eleven choices, including the Reggie Veggie Burger, the Clete Boyer Burger, the Bobby Richardson Cheeseburger, the Roger Maris Hamburger Deluxe, the Mickey Mantle Cheeseburger Deluxe, the Jeter Burger Supreme, the Tony Kubek Bacon Burger, the Andy Pettitte Pizza Burger and the Whitey Ford Blue Cheese Burger. I asked what the Clete Burger had on it and the waitress laughed, telling me Nothing; its just a plain burger. I said something about that not being right and she said he was lucky to have THAT named after him and then she and the mysterious woman in sunglasses began to laugh. I ordered the Mickey Mantle instead.

While waiting for my order, I mentioned to the waitress that I had a photo of me and Clete that was taken this summer during HOF weekend and how I'd like to have it autographed and . I was wondering if I mailed it to him c/o the restaurant, if it would get to him. She said looking to the woman in sunglasses, Sure, give it to her and shell be sure he gets it. AHA! - a clue to this womans identity; could she be Cletes wife, sister, girlfriend, business partner? I now directed my conversation to her, as I felt she was a better contact than the waitress.

I explained to her how I had written several articles about Clete for TDA, both hard copy and on-line and had been at the Yankee Old Timers game Labor Day weekend, seeing him manage one of the teams. Oh yes, we were there that weekend. I told her I had the photo in my car and asked if she could hand deliver it to him for an autograph. She said that she would. Afraid that she might leave early, I ran out to my car to get it. As I handed it to her, I mentioned I'd like to send Clete copies of the articles I had written. She took a piece of paper, wrote something on it and handed it to me saying to send them to her, not the restaurant. I put the paper in my pocket without looking at it and sat down to my lunch, which had been delivered by now.

I mentioned to no one in particular that the hamburger was excellent (and it was - a full half pound of what appeared to be, and tasted like, sirloin). I also noted that the steak fries were just like my mother used to make. That brought a What did I tell him; these are good fries from the waitress, once again directed to the woman in sunglasses, who by now was stretched out on one of the booths, trying to nap, I guess. Who was the him that the waitress was referring to: the cook, another customer, Clete? I finished my lunch, received my bill (the Guest Check, referring to my hamburger, said Mick Mantel (sic)) and left a $10.00 bill on the counter. I reached into my pocket and looked at the piece of paper; an address but no name. I was determined to find out just who this woman with sunglasses was (who by now once again was seated at the far end of the counter). First I offered to send money for postage for the return of the I hoped soon-to-be autographed photo. She told me not to be ridiculous. I asked to whose attention should I address the envelope containing the articles I was going to send, since she had neglected to give me her name. She said , Just put Cletes name; he'll get it.

When I got home, I still wasn't sure what the mysterious womans relationship to Clete Boyer was (although I have an idea); wondered if I would ever get my photo back (I did, with a real nice silver autograph); and discovered that the reverse of a Bill Robinson Rookie card I had bought earlier in the day noted that Robinson had been traded from the Braves to the Yankees for- Clete Boyer!

Several months ago, when I sent copies of the articles to Clete, I enclosed a letter asking to interview him. There hasn't been a response. I drove to Cooperstown this weekend for a HOF event, stopping by the restaurant before going into town. It was closed for the season.